On The Ropes (Tapped Out 3)

Tears sprang into my eyes, and I turned away, wishing I’d never come here. Yeah, at least we’d found out the office vandalism culprit was Vanity rather than Olivia, who might very well have led a path right back to Giovanni’s cohorts.

One more chance for him to show that he put me and my sister’s welfare last.

I will never choose you. Never.

“I’ll handle this.” Emerson got a hold on Vanity and muscled her to the door. “If we need to bring in the cops, I’ll take care of it.” His voice dipped and I figured he’d gotten a good look at my face. In a minute, I’d be blotchier than a chicken pox sufferer. Damn red hair. “You take care of things here,” he added to Fox.

The door shut on Vanity’s threats a moment later.

I paced to the window near the violated heavy bag and drew up the blinds to let the gloomy afternoon light into the room. The small desk lamp offered the only other illumination, but I still felt exposed. I might as well have been standing under a spotlight.

I heard Fox drop into the chair behind the desk. Pictured him raking a hand through his sweaty, spiky blond hair. “I suppose we know now who’s been screwing with Mia, huh?” He sighed. “Jesus, what if Slater was right? What if Olivia wasn’t fully batshit, only partially?”

It made me laugh, and bury my face in my hands. The tears came before I could check them, spilling out through my clenched fingers. In a second, my face was soaked.

Guess tears denied only multiplied.

“Hey, hey,” Fox said, coming up behind me.

“I’m sorry.” I turned into his embrace. If I’d ever needed to be held more than this, I didn’t remember it. “I’m sorry I’m crying…and I’m sorry I’m here, and I’m sorry…I have to…tell you. And I’m sorry I thought you were on steroids, because you’re clearly…not.”

“Um, okay, thanks. I think. And tell me what?” His tender strokes on my back slowed. “Is this about your sister? Is she upset? Oh, God. She’s miserable. She doesn’t want it—”

“I don’t know if she’ll want it, but it’s not her choice, it’s mine. I have to make it.” I blubbered into his shirt, dampening it thoroughly. “And God, I’m not ready.”

“Why would you have to…” He trailed off and tipped up my chin. “I think you better start from the beginning, because I’m pretty sure something got lost in the translation.”

I didn’t want to say the words. I couldn’t. If I said them, they’d become true, and I’d have to stop swimming up the denial river and face the reality of my choices.

“Carly?”

I scrubbed my cheeks with the heels of my hands and cast a fearful glance at the door. I had more than the usual reasons to be concerned if word got out that I might be knocked up.

Emilia had been gunned down while pregnant. Whether her pregnancy had anything to do with that unfortunate fact or not, I wasn’t looking to repeat history any more than it had already been repeated.

Jesus, I was a statistic. Or I might end up one, if I didn’t make sure the number of people who found out about this possible baby numbered exactly two.

The only two I would trust with my life—my sister and Fox.

“Can you lock that door?” I asked, moving to the desk to flip on the old school radio Fox kept there. I would’ve preferred soundproofed walls and earplugs for everyone who passed by the office, but it would do.

Though Fox shot me a puzzled look, he did as I asked and flipped the lock in the doorknob.

He returned and eased a hip on the edge of the desk, staring down at me with a mixture of confusion and somehow fatherly concern. It made me smile in the midst of everything. “You’re going to be a

great dad someday,” I said, and watched his brows snap down. “Oh, crap,” I said, hitting the heel of my hand against the side of my head. “You thought I meant Mia was…Christ, I’m a moron. I’m sorry. She’s not pregnant. Or if she is, I don’t know about it.”

One unplanned Anderson baby per year, please.

“Yeah, I sort of came around to that recently. As in the last two minutes or so. Before that…” He rubbed his hand over his heart. “You gave me a scare, kiddo.”

“Sorry.” I cocked my head. “A good scare or a bad one?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead staring out into the murky haze behind the window. November in New York was a crapshoot on the best of days, and today hadn’t come up crazy eights. “For me, it’d be good. That’s the path I’d like someday. For your sister, eh, it’s hard to say if her path quite lines up with mine.”

“It does,” I said quickly. “She’s the best mother I’ve ever known. Who do you think kept me on the straight and narrow all these years?” I frowned. “Well, until I fell off it, but that wasn’t her fault. She did a damn good job with me, when she was no more than a baby herself.”

“Mia and I are fine. Our timeline is progressing just like it should.” He tucked my hair behind my ears and nearly made me bawl again. “Let’s talk about you, huh?”